All Chapters of Cherished by My Cripple Husband: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

CLARA "Who the hell are you?" Gabriel’s deep voice sliced through the heavy silence of the cathedral like a broadsword. It wasn't loud, but it possessed a terrifying, reverberating weight that made the breath catch in my throat. The silence that followed was absolute. Hundreds of elite guests held their breath, frozen in place. I stood paralyzed under his storm-grey eyes, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs. Up close, Gabriel Vance was even more intimidating than the rumors suggested. His broad chest rose and fell evenly beneath his pristine charcoal jacket, and despite being confined to the massive leather wheelchair, he projected the aura of a predator waiting to spring. Behind me, I heard my father swallow hard. Panic radiated off Richard Montgomery in suffocating waves. He hurried forward, his forehead glistening with a thin layer of cold sweat. "Mr. Vance! Please, allow me to explain!" my father squeaked, his voice cracking with desperation. "This is... t

CLARA "Let's see how long you survive." Gabriel’s parting words rang in my ears like a death sentence as two guards rushed to assist him from the car. I stepped out onto the slick marble of the grand portico, the icy mountain rain spraying across my face, soaking the hem of Evelyn’s wedding gown. The Vance estate was less of a mansion and more of a fortress. Built high on the jagged coastal cliffs, its massive black-stone walls towered over the roaring ocean below. Dark glass windows reflected the flashes of distant lightning. It looked cold, impenetrable, and completely detached from the rest of the world. A heavy oak door swung open, revealing a towering foyer with high ceilings, grand chandeliers that cast long shadows, and a massive double staircase. Dozens of servants stood lined up in two rigid rows, their heads bowed low. The air inside smelled of expensive polish, old paper, and the sharp scent of cedar. Gabriel’s motorized wheelchair hummed smoothly as he rolled straight

CLARA "Grab the upper backrest frame," he instructed, his tone turning crisp and pragmatic. "Not the armrest—the control joystick is on the right side, and if you bend it, the motor will lock up. Pull from the metal bar beneath the headrest." "Understood," I said. I stepped behind the chair, braced my bare feet firmly against the marble, and gripped the solid steel bar behind the headrest. I took a breath, leaned my body weight backward, and pulled with all the strength in my arms and back. The heavy frame groaned against the floor, resisting for a second, before tilting upward. With one final push from my legs, the wheelchair tipped upright and landed heavily onto its four rubber wheels with a dull thud. The impact sent a small vibration through the floor, but the chair stayed upright. I blew a stray lock of hair out of my eyes and wiped my palms on my gown. "Where are the brakes?" "Flip the red levers on the back wheels down," Gabriel said. He was watching me with an expressio

CLARA "I know it isn't," I said, stepping closer to Gabriel's chair. "The medicine only numbs the brain's receptor sites. It does not release the tension gathered along the lower meridian path. The nerve is trapped between the sacral joint and the tendon behind his knee." Dr. Wayne paused, his hand hovering over the needle. "You think you can stop a full-force spinal spasm with your hands?" "I know I can ease it," I replied softly. I looked directly at Gabriel. His chest was heaving, his face pale with pain as the involuntary tremors shook his lower body. "May I touch your legs, Gabriel?" Gabriel stared at me through narrowed eyes, his breathing ragged. For a second, his pride flared in his expression. But the agony in his legs was undeniable, and something in my calm voice seemed to cut through his defenses. "Do what you want," he choked out. I immediately knelt on the wooden floor between his feet. I did not hesitate. I reached up and placed both of my palms firmly over the ou

CLARA "Drink the broth first," Mrs. Gable advised gently. "It will settle your stomach before you eat the heavier food." I nodded and took a small sip. The broth was rich, savory, and warm, soothing my dry throat instantly. I ate slowly, tasting real food for what felt like the first time in years. While I ate, Mrs. Gable picked up a sleek digital tablet resting on the side console and tapped the screen. A sharp, dry chuckle escaped her lips. "Is something funny, Mrs. Gable?" I asked, setting down my spoon. "Not funny, ma'am. Entertaining," she replied, turning the screen toward me. "The morning papers have been released, and the city is in absolute chaos." I leaned forward to look at the screen. The bold black headlines on the top financial news site read: VANCE ENTERPRISES ANNOUNCES MARRIAGE TO CLARA MONTGOMERY; BAILOUT TERMINATED. MONTGOMERY CORP SHARES PLUNGE FORTY PERCENT AT OPENING BELL. Beneath the headline was a photograph from the church yesterday. It was the exact mo